


What he doesn't know won't hurt him

by bellfort3



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF, sbi - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Foster Care, Found Family, Hugs, Mentions of Blood, Nightmares, No Beta, No shipping, Other, Tommy and Tubbo are best friends, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur is the oldest, big brother wilbur soot, fd, just a nose bleed tho, no romantic relationships, phil adopted them, phil is the adoptive father, platonic, sbi, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, sleepy bois plus tubbo, they are adopted, they are brothers your honor, tommyinnit sleeptalks, tommyinnit sleepwalks, tubbo is tommys best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29031948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellfort3/pseuds/bellfort3
Summary: The 3 times Tommy sleep-walked and the 1 time he didn't.
Relationships: Family - Relationship, No Romantic Relationships - Relationship, No shipping - Relationship, family dyanmics - Relationship, platonic - Relationship, they are Family - Relationship, they are brothers - Relationship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 383





	What he doesn't know won't hurt him

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me where the idea for this fic came from because I don't know either

**1.)** **Phil**

Tommy first started sleep-walking when he was 14, about a year or so after he had been officially adopted into the Watson family. No one was really sure where it came from, but Phil suspected that it had something to do with his deep-rooted trauma or the frequent nightmares that plagued him from his time in the foster care system. Whatever the cause, it resulted in Tommy getting up in the depths of the night and wandering the house. 

Phil was the first one to discover him, which was surprising considering Techno’s nonexistent sleep schedule. It would have made more sense for the pink-haired teen to find Tommy bumping into the couch in an effort to sit down, not Phil as he wandered into the living room, scrubbing a hand across his tired eyes and wondering _what the hell is that noise?_

Phil squinted through the darkness, spotting a blurry figure stumbling over the coffee table as he fumbled for the light switch. He found it and turned it on, flooding the room in harsh yellow light. The light illuminated Tommy, who tripped and fell onto the couch, nose bouncing off the armrest. 

Phil winced at the crunching noise Tommy’s nose made on impact. He shuffled forward and placed a tentative hand on Tommy’s shoulder. The teen tensed at the contact. 

“Tommy?” Phil said softly. “What are you doing out here?”

Tommy moaned, rolling over so he could look up at Phil. He blinked slowly, purple bags under his eyes highlighted by both the bright lights and the scarlet blood starting to drip from his busted nose. 

“Phil?” Tommy mumbled, blue eyes struggling to focus on the man’s face. 

Phil gave a small smile. “Hey, Toms. Yeah, it’s me. Are you awake? Can you stand for me? Your nose is bleeding.”

Tommy lifted a hand to his face sluggishly, barely registering the blood that came away when he wiped his nose. He cursed. “Whyyy. I want to sleeep.”

Phil chuckled lightly. “Stay there, mate. I’ll go grab some paper towels. Make sure you don’t tilt your head back-I don’t want you choking on your own blood.”

The teen nodded in acknowledgment and Phil retreated to the kitchen to gather some paper towels. He grabbed a handful, running them under warm water for a second, before hurrying back to the couch. 

Tommy had listened...somewhat. While he wasn’t leaning back, he also wasn’t sitting up either. The boy had completely hunched over, practically falling asleep even as blood continued to gush from both of his nostrils. 

“Jesus Christ, mate,” Phil muttered. He pulled Tommy back into a sitting position, resting his back against the armrest so he was facing sideways. Phil gently held the paper towels up to his face, waiting for Tommy to grab them himself. After a moment, he did, pressing the cloth to his nose and letting his eyes flutter closed once more. 

Phil tsked at him. “No, Tommy. You can’t sleep like this. You’re-you’re absolutely filthy! C’mon, let’s go back upstairs and get you cleaned up, yeah?”

And oh, was Tommy filthy. His signature red and white t-shirt was now his signature _red_ t-shirt, what with the white part being completely covered in blood. Blood also stained the lower half of his face and hands. It looked as if the teen had gotten into a nasty boxing match. 

Tommy groaned but allowed Phil to lift him off the couch nonetheless. He leaned heavily against the older blond, letting him lead him out of the living room and up the stairs back to Tommy’s bedroom. Once they made it through the doorway, Phil instructed Tommy to take off his soiled shirt before climbing into bed. Tommy obliged. 

In one swift motion, Tommy peeled off his bloodied t-shirt and flung it into his laundry basket. Phil handed him a clean shirt, helping him get his arms through the correct sleeves. After that, Phil walked to the bathroom to get more paper towels-these to help clean the blood off of Tommy’s face and hands. 

When he returned no more than a minute later, he wasn’t surprised to find Tommy fast asleep on his bed. The teen was curled into a tight ball, his cheek resting on the wad of paper towels he had been smart enough to place under him before he passed out. 

Phil sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he leaned over Tommy, tilting his chin towards him and gently wiping his face. He then grasped his hands and cleaned them of blood as well. Once he was sure Tommy was relatively clean, he checked again to make sure his nose had stopped bleeding before throwing away the dirty paper towels. 

Before leaving, Phil took a moment to admire his son. He ran a hand through his thick blonde hair, moving the curls off of his forehead. It was surreal to think Tommy had only been with them for only a year-it felt like so much longer. Together, they had already worked through so much, from Tommy first coming home and being afraid of any sort of touch, to, well, sleepwalking apparently. 

Phil pressed a chaste kiss to Tommy’s forehead before getting up and leaving the teen to, hopefully, sleep through the rest of the night peacefully in his bed. 

**2.) Techno**

Sleep-walking Tommy quickly became a daily occurrence, at least for Technoblade. 

Usually, around 3 am every night, Techno’s late-night grinding on the Dream SMP was interrupted by the sound of Tommy’s door opening down the hall. At this point, Techno would pause his game before getting up to go collect his younger brother.

Tonight was no different. 

It was exactly 3:22 am _(no, Techno had_ not _been keeping track of the time, don’t even suggest that)_ that Techno heard the familiar thump and creak of Tommy’s door opening down the hall. He sighed, pausing his game and pulling his headset off of his ears. He pushed back from his desk and got up, walking over to his door. He cracked it open, poking his head out just in time to see Tommy go stumbling down the stairs. Without a second thought, Techno stepped out into the hallway, closing his door behind him, and followed Tommy down the stairs. 

Techno wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he actually rather enjoyed watching Tommy as he sleep-walked. Not in a creepy way or anything, but he thought it was endearing. Tommy wasn’t vulnerable often, so it was somewhat relieving to see the kid wander the house with all of his walls down and his eyes peacefully closed. Techno truly felt like his big brother, his _protector,_ if you will, when Tommy sleep-walked. He was the one in charge of making sure he got back to bed all in one piece, after all. 

Was it really so bad if he indulged in that feeling for a little bit each night? Sure, Tommy was literally _asleep_ while Techno watched from a safe distance, but during the day Techno never got his turn to be a big brother to Tommy. It was always the ‘Wilbur and Tommy Show’, with Tommy being his annoying and boisterous self while Wilbur was the one hovering over his shoulder and making sure he didn’t fall. It wasn’t that Techno wasn’t included in all of the shenanigans, _most of the time he was forced to partake anyway_ , it was just that Tommy always chose Wilbur. 

_“Hey, Tommy, want to hop on the Dream SMP?”_

_“Sure! I’ll ask if Wilbur wants to join!”_

  
  


_“Tommy, what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing, just a rough day at school. I’ll talk to Wilbur about it.”_

  
  


_“Do you need a ride to Tubbo’s?”_

_“Nah, Wilbur is taking me. Thanks, though!”_

Techno wanted to be picked too, instead of just tagging along. That’s why he chose himself to be Tommy’s sleep-walking babysitter. 

Techno followed Tommy into the kitchen, watching as the teen hobbled around the island. He moved towards the cabinets, opening and closing them almost at random until he suddenly pulled down a cereal bowl. He moved to the fridge next, reaching in, presumably for milk, and coming out with the jug of orange juice.

As much as Techno would have loved to sit and watch Tommy make and eat a bowl of orange juice cereal, this is where he resolved to step in. 

“Alright,” Techno stepped in front of Tommy and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s not do that.”

Tommy didn’t register the body in front of him at first. He frowned slightly at the fact that something suddenly obstructed his path. Techno took that as an opportunity to gently pry the jug of orange juice from his hands. 

“I know you have sleep-eaten before, Tommy, but we have never tried cereal,” Techno continued talking as if Tommy was conscious. “I think it will be too messy. Let’s keep cereal as an ‘awake’ food, yeah?”

Tommy looked down even as his eyes remained firmly shut. His hand was still clenched around air. “Yeah,” he mumbled suddenly and Techno nearly dropped the juice out of surprise. 

Tommy had never _sleep-talked_ before! In the past two years of watching Tommy as he sleep-walked and putting him back to bed, Tommy had never spoken back at him!

“What...what do you want to eat instead?” Techno inquired as he put the orange juice back in the fridge. “Strawberry pop tart, maybe? Those are one of your favorites.” 

“Hmm,” Tommy hummed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Pop-tart.”

Techno couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Pop-tart?”

“Pop-tart.”

Was he seriously conversing with a sleep-walking Tommy about pop tarts? Yes, yes he was. Was he ecstatic about it? Also yes. 

Techno went and retrieved a pack of strawberry pop tarts from the pantry, unwrapping the pastries and holding one out to Tommy. “Here,” he nudged the teen. 

Tommy reached up sluggishly, bumping his hand against Techno’s chest before finding the hand holding the pop tart. He grasped it and brought it up to his face, slamming the food against his lips before he’d opened his mouth. The pastry crumbled, falling to the floor in a mess of strawberry paste and bread crumbs. 

Techno sighed heavily. He’d find it amusing if he weren’t the one who had to clean the damn mess. He handed the other pop tart to the blond, waiting a moment to make sure the food made it to his mouth this time, before gripping his elbow and lightly leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Here,” Techno said, gently pushing Tommy down onto the couch. “Sit and eat your pop tart. I’ll go clean up your mess.”

Tommy hummed again. “Pop-tart,” he mumbled sleepily. 

Techno nodded, humming along with his kid brother. “Yes, hm, pop tart.” It was kinda cute, the way Tommy sat there hunched forward with his eyes closed, nibbling on his pastry like a tame raccoon. Of course, Techno wouldn’t admit that while going to the closet to retrieve the broom and dustpan to clean up the mess he had caused. 

Techno made quick work with the broom and dustpan. He swept up the crushed pop tart and collected it in the dustpan before disposing of it in the trash can. He wiped his hands off on his pajama bottoms and walked back into the living room. 

It was nearing 4 am now, the time Techno usually took Tommy back to bed. Tommy’s sleepwalking expeditions were normally short, never exceeding an hour. So, the older teen wasn’t necessarily surprised when he walked up to the couch to find Tommy passed out and snoring slightly, bits of pop tart sticking to his face. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Techno chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb across Tommy’s cheek and wiping away some of the crumbs. He said it lovingly, letting himself be vulnerable in the dead of night. Affection, and showing it outwardly, was not Techno’s thing. All three of them-Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy-had rough experiences in the foster care system. They were all adopted by Phil with tremendous amounts of fear and PTSD. Techno remembered how his first year in Phil’s house was composed of daily jump scares, always checking his back, and making sure no one got too close. Touch had always freaked him out. You never knew if someone was going to pat your shoulder or slap you across the face until the last second. 

Tommy had been the same way, if not worse. Techno remembered seeing the blond double-check the halls for life before sprinting to the bathroom, making sure to come down to the kitchen only _after_ family dinner was over, and more. If Techno thought he’d been scarred, dancing around Phil and Wilbur for twelve months, Tommy was fucking traumatized. 

Techno pulled his hand away, navigating it so that it was tucked under Tommy’s knees, the other wrapping around his back. He picked up the child with ease, carrying him bridal style out of the living room and up the stairs. He’d done this enough times that he could navigate the house in the dark easily. He had no trouble getting up the stairs and finding Tommy’s bedroom, making sure not to jostle his brother too much as he laid him down in the bed. 

“Goodnight, Tommy,” Techno murmured quietly as he pulled the covers over Tommy’s torso. “You can have cereal in the morning.”

With that, Techno left his little brother to sleep out the rest of the night peacefully in his bed. 

**3.) Wilbur**

Wilbur was not able to let his sleep schedule that he had worked so hard to fix get ruined by sounds that he was probably imagining anyway. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Wilbur kept his eyes firmly closed, turning and burying his face in his pillows. The thudding that sounded suspiciously like someone kicking the bottom of his door had started five minutes ago when something heavy had hit the door and made it vibrate within its hinges. Being as light of a sleeper as he was, Wilbur had been startled awake.

But he had to be imagining it, right? Who, or _what,_ could possibly be banging against his door in the middle of the night? Wilbur had seen both Phil and Tommy go to bed, and sure, Techno was pretty nocturnal but he never bothered Wilbur during the night. So, either Wilbur was hallucinating or still dreaming, or he was legitimately about to die. 

The thudding suddenly turned into a dull scrabbling, like sharpened fingernails were dragging across the wood. Wilbur could no longer ignore it and pretend to go be asleep. His heart seized in his chest, panic rising up his throat like bile as his mind jumped to the worst and most unrealistic conclusions. 

_A murderer broke in and somehow snuck past Techno. They have sharpened claws of steel like Wolverine and they’re teasing me like a psychopath before they come in and rip my vocal cords out. I’m gonna bleed out in the same bed that I had my first kiss in-_ Wilbur’s thoughts short-circuited and he didn’t dare breathe when he heard the telltale squeal of his doorknob being turned. The door stuttered open, a blast of cool air sweeping through the bedroom. Wilbur suppressed a shiver, clutching his blankets for dear life. 

Footsteps, soft yet clumsy, like feet dragging across the floor. A shadow cast itself over Wilbur’s bed, darkening the already dark room. The atmosphere felt thick with tension, making it stifling and hot. Everything went still to the point where the only sound being heard came from the repetitive tick of Wilbur’s clock on the opposite wall. 

_If you’re going to kill me just do it already!_ Wilbur fought down the urge to sob. His life was just starting to get good! Why hadn’t he noticed it soon? Why hadn’t he appreciated it more? He’d been adopted by a nice man, the perfect dad, really, and had two amazing brothers. He had his own room and his own bed to sleep in. There was always food to eat and he never went a day without having at least three meals a day. He’d finally gotten what he wanted, just for it to be ripped away from him in the dead of night by some _Wolverine_ psychopath six years later. 

But he’d had a good run, right? Six years of happiness was better than none-

“Wilby?”

And just like that, Wilbur’s lungs reopened and he was gasping, coughing, choking, on the amount of air that flooded his system. He sat up abruptly, tears stinging his eyes as he proceeded to hack up all of his anxieties and fears. 

Wilbur would have felt silly if he weren’t so goddamn relieved. His little brother, Tommy, stood at the foot of his bed, eyes closed and cheeks shiny as he swayed sleepily on unsteady legs. Wilbur fumbled over on his nightstand for his glasses, pushing them onto his face and looking up at Tommy as everything came back into focus. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Wilbor cooed slightly when he realized that the blond was still asleep. If the tear tracks were anything to go by, Wilbur guessed that he must’ve had a nightmare and sleep-walked to Wilbur’s room for comfort, just like he would have if he were awake. 

Tommy whined slightly, head drooping slightly. Techno had informed Wilbur and Phil of Tommy’s sudden taking to sleep-talking as well as his sleep-walking, so Wilbur wasn’t necessarily surprised when he spoke again. “Wilby.”

Wilbur shuffled forward so he could reach out and touch Tommy. “Toms, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

Tommy leaned into Wilbur’s hesitant touch, practically slumping forward against the brunette. “Nightmare,” he mumbled. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Toms,” Wilbur said, rubbing circles along Tommy’s back. The teen was leaning on him heavily now. “Do you want to lay with me?”

Tommy nodded before letting his head fall against Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur bit his tongue to keep from cooing further. He helped Tommy into bed, tucking him in between Wilbur and the wall so he couldn’t go on any more sleep-walking excursions. Once Tommy was carefully nestled in the blankets did Wilbur lay back down next to him. Immediately, Tommy was cuddling him, turning and curling up in a tight ball against Wilbur’s side, clutching onto his arm as if it were a teddy bear. 

Wilbur smiled down at his brother. He looked so cute and innocent in that position; it was beyond him how he ever thought that Tommy had grown claws and thirst for his blood just a few minutes ago. 

**+1.) Tubbo**

“Fuck you! Fuck this!” Tommy cried in frustration, resisting the urge to throw his controller across the room when his character went flying off of _Mario Kart’s Rainbow Road_ for the fourth time in a row. 

Tubbo cackled, pumping a fist in triumph as he passed the finish line, coming in first yet again. “Stop being a sore loser,” he chastised when Tommy shoved him playfully. 

“Why the fuck are you so good at _Mario Kart?”_ Tommy inquired as he quit the game. Tubbo pouted but followed his lead. 

“Tommy, you know I had a lonely childhood,” Tubbo joked as he stood up and shut off the Wii console. He gathered both of their controllers and put them away. Tommy sniggered. 

“Aw, poor Tubbo, his only friend growing up was _Mario_.”

Tubbo held up an accusatory finger. “Don’t forget that you’ve been a Schlatt stan for like five years. Now that’s just embarrassing.”

“I was never a stan!”

“Oh, my bad. A _kinnie.”_

There was a moment of tense silence before Tommy dived forward and tackled Tubbo to the ground, the latter screaming like a wild animal. They wrestled for a few seconds, Tommy growling and telling Tubbo to, “Take it back! Take it back right now!” while Tubbo shrieked with glee, “No! It’s true!”

After another few moments of struggling, Tommy was able to finally pin Tubbo down. He laughed manically. “Yeahhh, bitchboy. Take it back or I’m gonna spit on your face.”

Tubbo squirmed in his grasp. “No! Don’t you dare! That is so unsanitary!” 

“I won’t do it if you take it back, Tubbo,” Tommy said as he threateningly cleared his throat, gathering his saliva in his mouth. 

Tubbo’s eyes widened comically with fear. “But it’s true! You are a Schlatt stan!”

“No, it's not. Take it back and the other thing you said.”

“What, that you’re a Schlatt kinnie?”

Tommy’s face contorted with anger. “Repeating is not taking it back, Tubbo! I’m gonna spit on you now.”

“No! _NO!”_ Tubbo thrashed against Tommy’s hold when the blond created a glob of spit and let it depart from his lips. “I take it back! _I take it back!”_

Tommy slurped up his spit crudely. “Thank you,” he said with a cheeky smile before rolling off of Tubbo and standing up. 

Tubbo remained on the floor, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Sometimes, I really question why I am friends with you.”

Tommy wore a smug face when he replied, “Because you love me!”

“Debateable,” Tubbo deadpanned and picked himself up off the floor. Tommy let out an offended gasp before dropping the bit. 

“Ugh, I’m tired but I want to pull an all-nighter like we said,” Tommy said in a moment of honesty. He stifled a yawn behind his hand and flopped back onto Tubbo’s bed. The pair were having a sleepover that night at Tubbo’s house. It was a Friday night with no plans for the following morning, so they had planned to stay up all night playing video games, eating junk food, and talking shit. 

“It's okay if you want to sleep. You can’t help if you’re tired,” Tubbo said, crawling on the bed and taking a seat next to Tommy. 

Tommy folded his hands in his laps, suddenly looking very sheepish. “You know I don’t like sleeping here, Tubbo. The whole point of sleeping at your house was that there would be _no_ sleeping.”

Tubbo furrowed his brows. This was true-the boys always had sleepovers at Tommy’s house, only ever having them at Tubbo’s house if one of Tommy’s brothers were there. Apparently, it was because Tommy tended to sleep-walk most nights, but Tubbo had never seen him do that in all the sleepovers they had had in the past year. 

“It’s okay if you sleep-walk, Tommy. We can just lock my bedroom door so you don’t wander away. My family won’t mind, I promise,” Tubbo said sincerely, leaning over and bumping his shoulder against Tommy’s. 

Tommy scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Techno says I sleep-talk now, too,” he grumbled. 

“That’s okay. I’m sure you’re equally as funny in your sleep as you are when you’re awake,” Tubbo joked, but it landed kinda flat with the blond. He smirked half-heartedly and continued to curl into himself. 

Tubbo sighed. Frankly, he didn’t get it. Sleep-walking couldn’t be all that bad, right? Like, Tommy didn’t even know what was going on because he was asleep, so why was he so embarrassed about it? Was the reason he was so embarrassed because he didn’t remember what had happened when he woke up?

“Tommy,” Tubbo softened his voice. He scooched backward on the bed so that he was leaning against the headrest. He patted the space beside him, encouraging Tommy to move and get into a sleeping position. “It’s fine. Just sleep and don’t worry about it. In the morning, we can pretend like nothing happened. You might not even sleep-walk.”

Tommy sighed heavily before obliging to Tubbo’s wishes and moving to the top of the bed. He went the extra step and crawled under the blankets too. “Okay...but I’m only listening to you because I’m too tired to care. _Mario Kart_ really wore me out, man.”

Tubbo laughed and allowed Tommy to redirect the course of the conversation. He knew how hard it was for Tommy to vulnerable, so he appreciated the effort he had made. “It only wore you out because you suck so bad at it.”

Tommy grunted and flipped over so that his back was facing Tubbo. 

“What, too tired to defend yourself, either?” 

Tommy didn’t say anything and Tubbo get himself snicker at the fact before getting up to turn off the lights. When he returned to the bed, Tommy had flipped back over and was curled up in a tight ball facing Tubbo. Tubbo wordlessly crawled back into bed beside him. 

“I’m sorry if I sleep-walk,” Tommy mumbled seriously. 

Tubbo shuffled forward and rested his forehead gently against the blonds. “It’s okay,” he whispered back.

They proceeded to fall asleep in that position. Pressed up against Tubbo, Tommy found that he really didn’t want to get up and sleep-walk and leave this position. He would be happy to find out in the morning that he didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some love if you enjoyed <3 and follow me on Tumblr for more writing updates and shit-I do a lot of brainstorming of headcanons on there: bellfort3


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